Volunteers
by Eski4Lyf
Summary: Genna is from district two, but she isn't a volunteer, she's been out of training for almost a year. When she's reaped, four words have the potential to change everything. R/R


A/N: Okay, so this is a Hunger Games fanfic (the first and probably only one I'll ever write) but just to warn you, there are practically no characters from the books here, as it's set in the fifty-first games. I was bored one day and decided to start fiddling around with the idea of what the Games would be like to someone from a career district, and before I knew it this turned into a full blown story. I know that it's a bit odd that I didn't put it in chapters but it just seems to work better as one long story full of parts of various lengths. This is probably the only story I've ever finished that isn't a one shot, and here I am making it a single chapter. Also, I didn't notice I'd made her name ridiculously similar to Jennifer Lawrence until after I'd written it, I swear! Warnings: Lots of OCs, character death (obviously), some minor swearing and lots and lots of angst.

Disclaimer: In case you haven't already guessed, I don't own the Hunger Games.

'No more.'

It's the third time I've heard that today and the words still sound strange to my ears.

'Genna, eat the rest of yours or your brother gets it,' my mother chides, sparing me a glance. Han looks at me longingly before I shrug in apology and wolf down my small dinner.

My mother stands slowly, reaching out to take away the plates set out neatly on the table. Han looks like he's ready to tear her head off and rush into the kitchen to find more food, but a look from our father makes him settle further into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a sour expression on his face.

'I want to go in The Hunger Games!' He groans. 'I want to come back and have everyone like me and then we can live in one of the big houses like Hertie!'

Hertie is one of Han's friends, her mother was a victor twenty years ago and she lives in one of the biggest houses with four brothers.

'Han, you're not even eligible for another six years,' I mutter.

Han is used to having everything. A full stomach, a warm roof over his head and parents who seemed to be willing to spend every second of every day playing and watching him.

I honestly can't say I'm any different, I know that compared to the boys and girls who slave away all day in the mines and workshops and don't always come home to a meal I'm lucky.

But I know the reason the food on our table is scarcer and the sweets that used to be left around the house for us to enjoy had vanished.

After the weapon's factory my father managed burnt down, we were instantly pushed down from being one of the richest families in the entire district, to a family that's one wrong move away from losing their house and being forced onto the streets.

I'm not even in volunteer's training anymore. All of the richest families can afford to pay for the secret trainers who prepare people for the task of being a tribute, all of their children are the ones who volunteer for The Hunger Games and they're usually the ones that come back out again, even richer than they were before.

According to my trainer, I might even have gotten it next year.

So while my friends are training fervently for the reaping in two days, I sit at home, peeling measly grey potatoes as my mother returns from a twelve hour day of work at the mayor's office, walks sullenly to her bedroom and falls asleep immediately.

* * *

The night before the reaping is far less exciting than last year. Last year someone set off illegal firecrackers to celebrate the 50th anniversary of The Hunger Games, and the Peacekeepers hadn't even bothered trying to arrest them. I sat with my friends on the highest roof in the district and watched, the boys trying to peek under our skirts as they revealed far more than they should in the breeze.

We have more Peacekeepers than any other district. It's every district two miner boy's dream to be able to pass the physical and intellectual examinations and to go to The Nut at age eighteen, to be able to provide for their family in full as they get to travel to whole knew districts. The physical standards are set unreasonably high, but considering that most of the entrants have been working in the factories or the mines for years, that's just as well or else everyone would pass. The majority is denied after the intellectual exam, because that too is far more difficult than is necessary, and district two isn't known for it's stellar school system.

I had begun to notice that my parents were egging my brother on especially in his studies and had begun to worry that they seemed to be resorting to hoping for a Peacekeeper son. That would cement our losses in stone and none of our friends would ever talk to us again.

However there's still a while before I have to worry about that, I think, watching my brother drag our father's old hammer along the floor. It's far too big to be efficient, and it's more of a decoration than an actual tool, some kind of heirloom.

'Daddy says this is for whoever in our family gets into the Games!' Han chirps cheerfully as he presents it to me. I almost smile to myself.

'I don't think I'm gonna be needing this sweetheart,' I say, taking the leather bound handle from him anyway, and thinking that there's no way that this monstrosity of a hammer would make it past the regulations at any factory. But it wasn't like anyone in my family had actually used a hammer for generations. Han's grin fades and I add quickly:

'Not this year anyway, I mean you know how big and strong those other girls are, and some of them won't have a chance at all next year because they'll be nineteen.'

'That's smart,' he says after a short pause. 'You'll get it next year.'

'Well that's very…'

Mother rushing into the room saves me from having to finish my sentence.

'Han!' She shouts. 'What have I told you about taking Daddy's hammer? Look at what you did to the floor!' She gestures frantically to the dark wood with thick pale scratches now swerving across it. 'Go to the table now! Both of you! Dinner's ready.'

* * *

I'm forced to wear last year's reaping dress.

I want to die of shame when I walk in to stand beside my old friends, who look at me in disdain. Last year the older, more traditional clothing had started to come back into fashion in the centre districts. The capitol had promptly squashed that right after the Hunger Games, when the districts were televised, bringing back the extravagant clothes that no one could afford. The other rich girls stand just slightly to my left, one in a dress with no back and one that flared out in an endearing way that looked odd on an eighteen year old who I knew could snap your neck with her bare hands because of her years of illegal training. Some of their heels look over five inches long and thin as needles, their hair up in curls and top-buns.

I look down self-consciously at my own pale green dress that floats down to just below my knees. It's some ridiculously soft material, and the classic bodice is wrapped tightly around my chest, sunlight shining off the fabric.

I have to admit I'm glad my parents hadn't sold it.

Unfortunately, they couldn't afford to keep the accompanying shoes, which were worth more than they make in two months so I'm wearing a pair of simple black heels that I had persuaded them to keep because I could wear them to any special occasion and they weren't worth much anyway.

'Welcome to the 51st Hunger Games!' The voice of Gretchen Pastor fills the square, and everyone falls silent.

Gretchen would seem like an odd choice to be the escort for a district like two, or a district at all. She's tall, almost six foot without her heels and well beyond that when she's in them. Her face is severe, with smooth coffee coloured skin, high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes seem almost sunken, but their enchanting gold colour seems to pierce right through a crowd. It's not rare to see her around district two, though I'm fairly sure she lives in the Capitol. When she doesn't have dozens of cameras pointed at her she's all business, practically no makeup and flat, lace up shoes with some kind of sophisticated yet flattering pants suit. Now however she's in a short black dress with a small blazer over the top, looking somehow smart and sexy at the same time. Her lips are so red her teeth look blindingly white behind them, and her eye makeup is spectacular, glittering gold stars spilling over her eyelids and disappearing out to the sides of her face.

She's not like most of the other escorts; her heart is anything but soft. Sometimes one of the tributes sparks her fancy and she'll admit, _"this kid's got real potential" _in one of her interviews. People don't seem to notice that it happens every year and that tribute always gets a boost in sponsors because the feared Gretchen Pastor with a heart as cold as ice approves.

'And now, as always, ladies first!' I realize that I completely zoned out during the customary video and she's already reaching into the Perspex bowl. Everyone knows that it doesn't really matter who gets picked, because twenty or so girls will volunteer anyway, but I can see some of the volunteers crossing their fingers behind their backs, because if they get picked they can refuse volunteers and they won't have to sit through a boring test while several officials decide who's the most suitable.

Her ridiculously long nails, which have to be synthetic because I can't imagine a woman like that growing her nails to the length of claws, pluck out a slip of paper and she walks back to the microphone steadily, not even pausing for effect before announcing the name.

'Genna Lawrence!'

Everyone seems just as surprised as me to hear my name. Out of everyone in the square, there must be several thousand teenagers, she pulled out my slip. What were the odds? I couldn't help thinking it, though I knew that that was the whole point of the Games.

_May the odds be ever in your favour._

I walk up to the podium slowly, noting how loud my shoes sound against the hard ground. How had I never noticed how loud they are?

It takes me ages to get up onto the stage, the square is so large and the older kids, including me, are right at the back.

'Hello Genna,' states Gretchen, but she isn't looking at me, she's peering towards where I just came from, at the girls who are slowly stepping towards the aisle.

'I volunteer!' It's Jessie, the girl wearing the ridiculously adorable dress, who shouts first, her muscular arm shooting up into the air, then almost thirty other girls follow suit. Even for district two this is a lot of volunteers.

I don't bother to pay attention as a brawl breaks out between two girls who I know are the closest of friends, scanning the crowd separated from the commotion. My eyes lock on Han's. He's sitting on our father's shoulders and he's smiling up at me with such a smartass grin, saying _I told you so, I told you you'd get it._

'I refuse volunteers,' I say quietly, but I'm standing too close to the microphone and I know that everyone hears me because silence falls over the square.

I immediately wish I could take it back, one of my hands immediately pulling up to brush down my auburn hair self-consciously, I refuse the impulse and decide that the damage is done. I take a step closer to the microphone and repeat myself.

'I refuse volunteers!'

I step back again and chance a fleeting look at Gretchen, who's staring at me like I'm insane.

I refuse to look at my family.

'All right then,' she says, ignoring the fact that Jessie has had to be physically dragged from the square to keep her from cracking skulls. 'Now for the boys!'

A few seconds later she shouts out 'Porter Madre!'

As soon as the dark fifteen year old, who's so ripped from what must be mining work I feel like he could do just fine in the Games, steps onto the podium, someone in the crowd shouts 'I volunteer!' And thirty or so pairs of eyes are glaring up at Porter as though daring him to refuse. He steps down immediately, gives me a look that shows just how stupid he thinks I am for doing this, and walks briskly back to his friends.

Everyone stands around awkwardly for five minutes as the volunteers are ushered quickly into a low white building. I know exactly what goes on in there. You show your strengths for three minutes while the judges watch and at the end they chose the most worthy of being in The Games.

Tanza exits, arms held up high as he almost runs to the podium. I should have known it would be him.

He's tall and lean, with long legs and strong hands that wrap around the microphone. With a perfectly straight nose and silky black hair that falls down to around his ears, he's sure to be a hit with the female sponsors.

He pays Gretchen no attention and just roars into the microphone, shouting his name and age to the cheering crowd.

When she finally gets him to calm down Gretchen tells us to shake hands and I'm shocked to see that Tanza winks at me while he does so.

'I present to you the district two tributes for the 51st Hunger Games!' Cheers Gretchen, and the crowd bursts into applause.

* * *

So this is what it must feel to be from the outer districts.

No choice in your future, a stupid piece of paper pulled from a stupid bowl with some stupid lines that form my stupid name.

My name, I'm one of the only people in the district with such a classic last name, _Lawrence; _no one has a name like that anymore. No one but my parents, my brother and me.

My brother.

I remember the look on his face. He really thought it was going to be me. He _knows _how the system works. Everyone does, yet he thought that I would take it, that just because I was standing on the podium, I was the girl tribute from district two.

I mean it's not like I'm not strong. I had been training for this for close to five years before my parents were forced to pull me out. And I'm seventeen, which really isn't that young, though most tributes from my district are eighteen, because the older kids are stronger and more likely to be the chosen volunteer.

He wants me to win; he wants to have a victor in the family. He wants to be able to come out of his beautiful house and gloat to all of his friends that his sister won the Hunger Games.

And who am I to deny him that?

* * *

'I told you you'd get it!'

I reach down to pull Han into a hug as soon as he walks through the ornate door.

'Where are mum and dad?' I ask, surprised when I don't see them following him in.

'They wanted to talk to you by themselves because I'm too young,' he says. And for once he doesn't even sound like he's complaining he seems so happy for me. 'And they wouldn't let me bring you daddy's special hammer!' I smile as the familiar whine edges into his voice again.

'Listen sweetheart,' I sit down on the couch and pull him onto my lap. 'I'm going to win this thing, for you okay? And then I'll be back and we'll live in a beautiful victor's house that sparkles in the sunlight, right next to Hertie and her family.'

'Right next to them?'

'Of course! And you can play with her all day.'

'And there'll be food?' He asks, his smile so wide it looks like it might be hurting him.

'Lots of food, and you can have all the sweets you want.'

'Especially the blue ones?' He asks. 'The ones that make my tongue go colours?'

'_Especially _the blue ones.'

I pull my head down to plant a soft kiss in his hair as three Peacekeepers walk in and take him by the hand, leading him out.

He's barely gone for a second before the door flies open and my parents rush in. My mother's hair has completely fallen out of her neat bun and my father's tie is missing.

'What were you thinking?' She shrieks as soon as the door snaps shut behind her. 'Why did you refuse volunteers? Jessie is in tears she's so sad she missed out! As if we weren't alienated enough! Now her parents, who are the most influential couple in the district aside from the mayor and his wife, won't even look at us straight!'

I just sit there, watching my mother as she screams at me, as my father urges her on. I had fully expected this, no tears and farewell embraces for me. Not the girl who refused to let the volunteers try out when she's nowhere near strong enough to be a fitting tribute from district two.

Then the Peacekeepers are in the room and she's clutching me so tightly I can't breath.

'I can't believe you're doing this, I… I couldn't stand it if I lost you in there!'

Taken aback by the sudden turn of events, I barely have time to whisper in her ear that I'm going to win this, no matter what, before a Peacekeeper has a strong grip on her upper arms and she's being pulled out of the room. My father spares me a single, meaningless glance before he's gone too.

I sit there, alone, with far too much space to think.

I'm shocked when the doors swing open again.

Then I jump up and over the back of the couch, hiding on instinct.

'Genna?' I hear a small voice from over the couch. 'Genna, I'm not going to hurt you.'

I peek my head over the rim of the plush purple fabric and ignore the urge to hide again as I stand straight.

'What are you doing here Jessie?'

She fidgets with the hem of her dress. I notice that her high heels are gone, replaced by a pair of training boots, and her blonde hair had been let out and hung loosely over her shoulders. She's quite pretty really.

'You shouldn't have refused volunteers,' she says quickly, stepping forwards until there's nothing but the couch between us. 'I know how that sounds and I know that I must seem like a jealous bitch but I can't let anyone go into the Games this year. Not you… we were friends!'

'What are you talking about?' I reach out and put my hands on her arms, trying to look her in the eyes.

'I know people in the Capitol, Genna, they're planning something really horrible for The Games this year,' she's whispering it all in my ear now and her hot breath tickles my skin unpleasantly. 'They know that it's the lull after an anniversary, and they want to make up for it by making it far more gruesome. I heard that it's likely that no one will come out alive.'

'What?' I feel like my feet have been suckered to the floor. 'How can no one come out alive?'

'They'll do something to the terrain, make it so dangerous that you'll all be forced together, but I heard someone say that the Game Maker is out of his mind and there's no way to know for sure he can control it all.'

I had the sudden sensation that I was sinking.

'Take this,' I feel a ring sliding onto my finger, the metal is warm and I guess she'd just taken it off her own. I'm not really paying attention to much of what's going on around me. 'It was going to be my token, but I'm eighteen, I'm not getting in next year.'

I feel like I should say something and I settle for 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' she whispers. 'I'm almost glad. No more training and worrying.'

Then the door opens and two Peacekeepers walk in and reach out to pull her away from me. She slaps them away, smiles, kisses me on the forehead in much the same way that I'd kissed Han, then turns and leaves.

* * *

I almost cry when I see the inside of the train, it reminds me far too much of holidays to the Capitol with my family, back when we could afford it and everyone was happy, but I manage to keep my cool and sit down in one of the gorgeously soft seats.

Tanza joins me, quite literally, and I squeal indignantly and shove his laughing ass off my lap.

He just smirks and sits beside me, his leg reaching around to brush against mine.

I pull my feet up so that I'm sitting with my knees tucked under my chin, practically sinking into the cushions.

Our mentor walks in the door and I recognize him immediately, he's last year's victor and the spitting image of Tanza.

Tanza's smile stretches his face in an odd way as he stands to embrace his twin.

Okay well this is completely unfair.

How is Mika allowed to mentor his _twin brother_?

I thought the mentors were supposed to be impartial.

I'm about to complain when I see Gretchen standing in the doorway, already out of her makeup and heels, shaking her head at me.

My mouth shuts, and I can't help but trust her more than anyone else on the train.

Not that anyone else is at all trustworthy.

I know that it's only going to be a few hours or so until we reach the Capitol but I leave the room and wander around until I find what is unmistakably my bedroom.

It's dark, and I don't bother to turn on the light, just falling onto the bed and pulling off my shoes. I can't sleep, though my mind feels blank. There's nothing there but I just can't drift over the edge.

I open my eyes blearily after about twenty minutes of nothing, and find that I've become accustomed to the darkness enough to see a crystal bowl full to the brim with small round spheres, a brighter blue than seems possible, and I can't help thinking of Han, grinning up at me with a pile of sweets in his hand, his lips and teeth stained as he pokes out a bright blue tongue.

* * *

Watching the other tributes getting reaped is painful. We all know it's bad in the outer districts, though maybe not the full extent of how bad. I've never been there, and though my family isn't well off any more, I've never felt what it's like to go without the necessities of life beyond comfort.

That doesn't mean we have to be reminded.

I can't watch as a twelve-year-old boy who's so scrawny he doesn't look much older than Han gets reaped in district eight, and I feel tears stinging at my eyes when I hear no one volunteers for him. I wish that someone like him had been reaped in my district and someone like me in hers.

Then it would be Jessie sitting where I'm sitting now, travelling at 200 mp/h towards an arena that is going to be one of the most dangerous in history.

'Genna,' I look up towards Gretchen, who's standing beside me with a terse expression on her face. 'I have to talk to you.'

I'm feeling resentful towards her for forcing me out of bed and into a change of clothes, though I have to admit the loose silk shirt and pants, both a deep violet, feel amazing against my skin.

I stand and follow her out of the room, glad to leave.

'I thought I was supposed to watch all of the other tributes and study them or something.'

'The way the tributes act at the reaping isn't going to help you figure out how to kill them,' she says calmly, gesturing for me to sit down. 'Especially in the outer districts, they're all the same.'

'No they're not,' I can't help myself from saying. 'Some of them cry, some of them just stand there in shock and some of them look determined, or even calm…'

'If there was no one standing in the audience and all of the cameras were gone, every single one of them would cry.'

I freeze, my hand frozen in the air halfway to grabbing a bread roll.

'But,' I feel caught off guard and unbalanced. 'But I can tell what they're like by how they handle it, can't I?'

'There's enough time for psychology at the Capitol when you're not just seeing them on a screen,' Gretchen says, sitting opposite me. 'We're off topic, now, I figure that you're thinking this whole situation with Mika being your mentor is extremely unfair,' I can tell by the way her nostrils flare ever so slightly that she thinks so too. 'And I tried to stop it but he's the latest victor which means he's obligated to mentor you, and we're obligated to shut up and deal with it. I'll help you get along as much as I can,' she seems uncomfortable now.

'Are you suggesting favoritism?' I ask in surprise.

'An eye for an eye,' she muses, and I swear I see her smirk for a second before she looks just as composed as ever. 'If Mika and I both have our favorites, then ultimately everything is fair.'

I can't believe she's just said this, but I don't push my luck by telling her so.

'We'll be in the capitol in an hour, why don't you get properly dressed into something a little less comfortable?'

I stand slowly and rush to my room.

* * *

I've only been in the pretty blue dress for twenty minutes before we get off the train. I've seen the Capitol before but it still makes me smile. The wonderful buildings, ten times the height of the roof I had sat on with my friends to watch the firecrackers, glistening in the sunlight, the thousands of people in clothes that were like bright splashes of paint against the streets. As soon as we're out of the door we're rushed into another and led through corridors until we're in a large room with twenty-four sectioned off areas.

Then I'm out of the dress again and the gorgeous fabric gets tossed over the shoulder of one of the members of my prep-team.

Her skin is literally pale as snow, but so smooth that it looks more like milk. Her lips are painted the same colour and her eyes look like the iris and pupil have been blotted out.

When she opens her mouth to tell me to relax I notice that even her gums and tongue are white. She looks like a statue.

I look to the other members of the team, and thankfully their fashion-choices aren't quite so unsettling.

They seem very pleased with the fact that I already wax my legs, but are surprised when they see that I haven't done anything about the peach fuzz growing over the rest of my body, and that I'd never even plucked my eyebrows. I wasn't aware that you could be waxed literally all over, and I manage to fight off the screams until they get to work on the _extra sensitive _area between my thighs.

I hear screams coming from a distance too, and I wonder what the male tributes think is happening. I envy them; my body feels raw, like I've stood under a scalding shower for too long. Then I feel a smooth liquid being rubbed over my skin and I relax immediately, angling my body to heighten the pressure of the cream-covered hands.

They urge me to sit up and begin pulling my hair out of its messy do, which has already come mostly undone. The woman who looks like a statue has started filing my nails and painting over them with a clear lacquer and the third member starts cleaning my face.

'Okay, beautiful, you're done,' the man dabbing at my face holds it in his hands and then backs up to let someone else drape a bathrobe over my shoulders.

'Time to meet Yale!' The statue-woman smiles brightly and the smallest sound of a titter escaped her lips. It's the last thing one would expect to hear from a person like her and catches me completely off guard.

I stand unsteadily as they lead me out of my area and through to a door in the back of the room.

The man standing there is of medium height, with coffee coloured skin and silky white hair and suit that clash brilliantly. His eyes are a bright green and they twinkle almost mischievously, dark eyeliner enclosing them and flicking out at the edges ever so slightly. He raises an arm to cup my cheek and the watch fastened around his wrist cools my skin. His nails are short, but painted white to go with the rest of his obvious theme. The earrings hanging from his ears seem far too elegant and large for a man's, but that doesn't stop them from looking gorgeous.

'Hello Genna,' he says, and his falsetto shocks me. I've never heard such a high voice on a man. 'I'm Amaretto Yale, your stylist. I'll be helping you with your wardrobe and makeup for the competition.'

'Alright,' I say, standing straight as his eyes rake up and down my body. I don't even feel self-conscious, there's no want or disgust in his eyes, no judgment in his expression either. It's just like he's trying to see what kind of body I have, trying to choose what would work with me best. After a couple of minutes he smiles at me and tells me to leave, and that he'll see me tomorrow for my costume.

I leave shakily, my prep team escorting me back into my area and sliding a purple dress over my head. It's just slightly shorter than my reaping dress and sleeveless.

The district two floor is lavish, with stylish leather couches and bright carpets and wallpaper. There's a long dining table by the far wall and stairs that no doubt lead up to our bedrooms.

I ignore the food and walk straight up, finding my room and curling up under the soft, blue blanket. The pillow and sheets rustle beneath me, and the sound soothes me as I lie there and try not to think.

* * *

I don't notice that I even fell asleep until I roll over, pressing the cold hard surface of a button. A holographic screen fades immediately and bright sunlight filters into the room, I squint out at the view, a bright courtyard with banners hanging from tall metal poles and a huge red count down, like a constant reminder, directly in my line of sight that flashes the time remaining before the Hunger Games.

It's set in a huge monument, a black marble slab jutting out of the ground on which I know lie the names of all of the victors since the first Games.

You would think that the losers would get something like that, but their names only remain in the vague memories of their watchers and the tears of their families.

I sit up as soon as the door opens and a slight man dressed in a crisp white shirt and non-descript black pants walks in. He nods at me and I felt an odd twinge somewhere in my stomach at the thought that he has no tongue.

I'm not unfamiliar with Avoxes, I've been to the Capitol plenty of times and stayed in some fairly high-end places, but they still unsettle me.

I nod back and stand, waiting till he steps back outside to change out of my dress.

* * *

I'm surprised to see Amaretto already standing in the living room, chatting to Mika, or is it Tanza? I walk up to them warily, hands places cautiously behind my back.

'Oh Genna!' He's wearing all green today, but his hair is still bright white. 'You need to come with me, you're already late for starting prep-work!'

'It's nine in the morning,' I say incredulously. 'The opening ceremony is at six.'

Amaretto says nothing, merely taking my hand and leading me into another door I hadn't noticed before, inside which my prep-team is already waiting.

I don't enjoy being prepped. None of my team are the talkative type, preferring to focus on their work. I have far too little to do, lying on the cold metal slab as they wash me over ridiculously thoroughly. One of them is holding the spray, the high pressure making my skin tingle. The statue is rubbing various washes and lotions and scrubs over me, and I feel horribly twitchy whenever she gets anywhere near my chest or the insides of my thighs, but when she does rub her hands over the sensitive skin I feel surprisingly numb. Not even a slight twinge when her fingers rub briefly and probably accidentally over a certain place they probably shouldn't have. The third member has light blonde hair piled on top of her head, a couple of locks hanging out of the bun in tight ringlets, with ridiculously heavy makeup and large, probably surgically altered lips that pucker as she works on my own hair. She smoothes various shampoos and conditioners through it; they smell like strawberries and vanilla and the feel of the woman's strong fingers against my scalp is lovely.

After the longest wash of my life they spend another hour drying me as I sit in a soft leather chair. They put another shapeless gown over me but this one shows a large amount of cleavage. The reason becomes obvious when they start applying the first layers of makeup and the statue rubs various creams and primers over my face and jaw and neck and right down my chest.

The other member of the team, who's a short man with long pitch black hair and numerous earrings sticking out of his ears, blue eyeliner that swirls up at the corners and red lipstick that makes me uneasy with how much it contrasts with the rest of his look, applies all of the more finicky makeup with ease. Making my eyes look smooth and elegant, my lips soft and glossy, contouring my face perfectly with smooth strokes of a thick brush. The blonde works on my hair, pulling it up but letting a thin amount cascade over my shoulders. Pinning it up perfectly and spraying it lightly with some kind of sharp smelling spray. The statue paints my nails a hard grey and dusts a powder over my hands, and I start to wonder what my costume will be. My district is in charge of masonry, and we may be miners but we never have miner's costumes. The stylists always dread coming up with the same costumes for their tributes and there's some kind of unspoken agreement between my district and district twelve that they are the ones to get the miner angle, so we're left with blacksmith's costumes every year, because we don't ever feel the need to publicize how heavily our district relies on the profits for the manufacture of weapons.

The statue leaves for a moment and then returns with Amaretto, who immediately walks over to me and peers at my face for a few seconds before showing a satisfied smile and turning back to the statue, who's holding a black clothing bag.

'Okay now dear, I'll just take off the gown…' He spun me around to untie it at the back and then pulled open the body bag in one quick flourish.

They put on the skintight grey pants and black boots. The shirt and jacket fit me perfectly. Finally they put the black cap onto my head, and I turn to the mirror.

I almost gag.

It's military garb, small coloured squares on my chest for things that I've never done, the icon of Panem glints on the cap and the black tie is uncomfortably tight around my neck.

'I'm really surprised that no one's ever thought of it before,' says Amaretto cheerfully, his hands ghosting over my hair as he adjusts a couple of strands. 'Obviously district two doesn't like advertising their weapons manufacturing to the sponsors, but there's no shame in being tied to the military. District two is probably the district with the most Panem pride!'

I stay silent and just stare at the mirror, I barely recognize myself. The ridiculously clean cut outfit doesn't seem right for the opening ceremony, but they quickly explain that I'll be holding one of the poles for a large banner and when I see the huge Panem flag I realize it's just flashy enough.

Tanza looks nothing like a real soldier. I know real soldiers, they grow up in my district, working in the workshops and mines, creating the weapons that they would one day hold as they travel off to far away lands. The boys who don't make it as Peacekeepers always try out for the military, it pays less and most of them will never see their families again, but the standards are lower. Tanza looks nothing like the men, with their buzz-cuts and creased uniforms, hasty patches sown on by worried mothers. None of them can afford first-hand uniforms, and I've always wondered where they get all the used ones, and who could afford them in the first place.

Tanza's is crisp and clean, the belt, boots and cap practically gleaming. His smile is far too perfect and his hair is long and luscious, there's a twinkle in his blue eyes that seems out of place.

He winks at me, and I'm really getting tired of it. He's not attractive when he winks, and it's just making me uncomfortable.

'Please stop winking at me,' I whisper to him as we walk side by side towards the opening court. 'You're making this very uncomfortable.'

'Do I make you uncomfortable?' He whispers back, leaning far closer than he needs to.

I step away from him; I can't be distracted right now. I need to make a good impression with the sponsors if I want even a chance of coming out of this alive.

Looking around the prep-hall as we enter I see everyone else in varying costumes. District one's tributes look gorgeous in glittering gold. Three appear to be engulfed in wires. District four's are covered head to toe in false scales. District twelve are coal miners, as usual and I'm fascinated by district five. Their skintight black jumpsuits have bright blue sparks running over them, flickering brightly. I can't help but wonder if it's safe and how expensive they must have been to make.

'Okay listen to me,' says Gretchen to the both of us, and I'm instantly wondering when this whole preferential treatment thing is supposed to kick in. 'You stand straight and tall, and _smile. _I don't care how stupid you feel, the main ties between District two and the Capitol are friendship and military, so you need to convey them.'

I nod speechlessly and I can hear Tanza agreeing beside me.

It feels like no time has passed until we're standing on the chariot and I'm praying that I don't fall off, gripping the side with one hand and one pole of the banner with the other.

'Smile Genna,' Tanza leans over to murmur into my ear and then he straightens stiff as a rod and I mimic him.

The scale of the entire thing is amazing. I'd seen it all numerous times while televised in District two, but that's nothing like being here. Thousands of people stand from their seats, the applause and cheers ringing out so loudly it almost drowns out the commentary ringing out over the speakers. The commentators seem very pleased with our national pride or something, I'm too focused on smiling and standing upright that I don't have time to think about much else, but I manage to pull off a salute in response to a few I get from the crowd.

We flick up on the screens for a few seconds and I use the view to adjust the smile on my face so I don't look so terrified.

The procession goes by very quickly and before I know it the president is making his customary speech and his face is being magnified on dozens of screens. I can see the Game maker over his left shoulder.

His hair is a light chestnut brown and it's practically glued down to his head by product. His eyes are wide, deep blue and his skin is awfully pale.

He doesn't look any older than thirty.

I'm instantly confused, I'd expected a cunning man with a horrible glint in his eyes. From what Jessie's told me he's somewhat unhinged, and I can't help but wonder if there's no weight to her story after all or if there's something about the man standing up on the podium that he's hiding.

The president gives a bow and the chariot lurches forwards. I almost fall back out but Tanza grabs my hand for the briefest of seconds and I regain my balance.

The chariot glides smoothly out of the view of the crowd and I jump off almost immediately, breathing deeply to calm down.

Tanza joins me and puts a strong hand on the small of my back, I cringe at the contact and I know that he notices, but he doesn't back off. He leans down and whispers something unintelligible in my ear and that's when I shift out of his grip and notice that everyone's staring at us.

I walk away from him towards the lift, but Gretchen, who has a critical expression on her face, follows me.

'What was that about?' She asks quietly in the lift.

'Nothing,' I whisper, but I know she can tell that I'm lying.

As soon as the doors open I try to get away from her, but her long fingers grip my arm and I'm pulled back to face her.

'Genna, you need to tell me what your problem is!'

I glare up at her for a moment, thinking.

What Jessie told me is highly illegal. No one's supposed to know about the arena, especially not possible tributes. I'm certain that the Capitol will punish her in some way, no matter how friendly they are with district two and how popular her family is, but Gretchen had promised me preferential treatment, and I need to tell her this. She could know what to do.

'You know Jessie?'

'The girl who would have been tribute?'

'Yeah, that's her,' I fidget with my sleeve anxiously. 'She came to see me off.'

'Did she threaten or hurt you?'

'No, she told me something,' and now I know that there's no going back. I'm telling her the truth, but I ask her to promise just in case. 'But you have to promise not to tell anyone because she could get in a lot of trouble over this.'

Gretchen doesn't even pause before nodding fervently.

'Okay, so Jessie has friends in the Capitol, like, well she called them friends, but to tell you the truth they're probably just contacts in the Game Master's inner circle who she's paying to give her an edge in the games,' Gretchen is raising her eyebrows at me and I can tell that she already knows. 'Anyway, so she told me that one of them told her that the arena is going to be dangerous this year.'

'Genna, the arena is always…'

'But it's going to be worse! She said that her contact said that the Game Master is out of his mind and that it's possible no one will survive!'

Gretchen peers at me cautiously and then nods.

'I believe you, and I won't tell anyone about Jessie.'

I feel like hugging her but I think that if I do she might push me away.

'Thank you,' I say.

'We'll worry about this tomorrow,' she says quietly, glancing around the room, and I immediately think of cameras. Considering how many there are in the Games, I wouldn't be surprised if they were spying on us right now.

'I…'

'Your prep-team is waiting for you in there,' she points at the door Amaretto had led me into this morning. 'They'll get you ready for bed.'

* * *

I wake up the next morning at some ungodly hour when Mika pokes his head through my door.

'You have to get up, your training starts in an hour and we need to talk to you first,' he nods at the training garb that's definitely top of the line. 'Put those on and meet us downstairs.'

I get up blearily, stepping through to the shower and standing under the water for slightly longer than necessary. I go back through to my room and shed my robe, changing quickly into the clothes on the bed. The soft polyester is great, and it fits me like a glove. I tie my damp hair up into a loose bun and go downstairs.

'Ah, Genna, how nice of you to join us!' Tanza is smirking up at me from his seat.

'We don't have much time,' says Gretchen quickly. 'Now Genna, I need to know your strengths.'

'Close hand-to-hand combat,' I say immediately. 'I'm no good at sharp-shooting.'

Mika looks surprised, though I'm not sure why. He knows that I've had training.

'Okay, well, for you two I think your best bet is to intimidate the competition, but try to make friends with any other powerful tributes, form a group of allies.'

I sigh; this is the typical District two strategy. Team up with districts one and four, kill all the other tributes and then battle it out.

Tanza nods and whispers something to his brother before walking confidently into the elevator.

Leaving me no choice but to follow him.

* * *

I go straight to close combat, picking out a small sword that fits easily in my hands. Tanza's decided to join me so I figure there's no harm in a little sparring.

He's far better than me, taller, stronger, and his sword has a much longer reach. He's been training for this for years, and I've grown unfit in the last ten months of mild food depravation and lack of exercise.

My skill levels have dropped, I'm not nearly as quick and I keep misjudging his actions. I miss a lot of easy feints and fail to side step a lot of clear hits.

'You're out of practice aren't you?' He grins with the sharp tip of his sword poking into my stomach. If I move an inch forwards it'll break through clothing and skin.

'I've been out of training for almost a year,' I mutter when he pulls back and I lunge forward. He's grabbed my wrists in one large hand and has his sword at my stomach again in no time.

My own sword clatters to the floor.

'Kick me,' He whispers.

'What?'

'I'm trying to make you look good here,' I meet his eyes and he's grinning at me. 'Overpower me, you look like an easy target right now.'

I don't argue with him, I can see people looking at us. The big and burly male tribute from district one is smirking directly at me.

I kick up at his groin and he falls back, releasing his grip on my wrists, his breath escaping his lips in a pained gasp. In a single swift movement one end of my sword is back in my hand and the other is an inch from his throat. I kick away his dropped weapon.

'I didn't mean to actually kick me,' he winces as I press the tip of my blade into his skin. 'That hurt.'

'I'm terribly sorry,' he rolls his eyes at my sarcasm.

After that I beat him for real a couple of times, and then we moved to some smaller knives. Somehow I ended up straddling him, my knife hovering pointedly just above his eyes.

Then his hands slid up my legs and brush lightly over the small strip of skin between my shirt and the tight training pants.

I gasp and jump off him, backing away until I literally bump into another body.

I spin around and end up face to face with the girl tribute from district four.

She's tall, almost six foot. Her olive skin is perfectly smooth aside from a few small freckles over her nose, which I've never noticed before, probably because they'd been blotted out by makeup. Her black hair is pulled back severely from her forehead and falls down in a shiny, perfectly straight ponytail.

'He's got some nerve, doesn't he?' She grins. 'Coming on to you like that in a place like this when you've got a knife in his face.'

'He was just provoking me,' I say, walking over to put the weapon away.

'Hey catch,' she says, throwing me a larger sword and grabbing one for herself. 'En guarde,' she takes a swipe at me and almost disarms me with the first blow. I regain my footing and I can feel the familiar movements coming back to me. Her style is similar to the style I'd grown accustomed to over years of training. It's smooth and fluid, and I realized it had been Tanza's choppy, aggressive form that had been throwing me off.

I beat her first.

But I'm so surprised that she disarms me in the exact same way I'd defeated Tanza the first time.

We both laugh and I feel at ease. She's still better than me, but I manage to beat her a few times before we're all called for lunch.

We sit with the other career tributes, and I learn the district four girl's name. Dreah is the daughter of the biggest netting distributor in all of district four, and I'm shocked to find that the other tribute is her brother.

Sammy is thin and weedy but I've seen him throw knives and I don't envy anyone who's on the receiving end of his sharp aim. He'd been reaped, like me, and had refused volunteers. He didn't want to risk waiting until he was eighteen for a chance that could never come. He seemed so excited to be here and I figure out that he would have been reaped _after _his sister and would know that they could very well end up facing off in a fight to the death. I can't help but wonder how their parents feel about the fact that only one of their children would be coming home, and what would happen if they were the last two left in the fight. Would the Capitol really force someone to kill their sibling?

They don't seem to be concerned though, laughing at a few inside jokes like they haven't a care in the world.

I don't like the tributes from district one. The girl, who gets called Candy though her full name is Incandescence, seems a bit stuck up, and isn't even that good a fighter. I have no idea how she was chosen from all of the other volunteers. Her bright blonde hair is pulled up in a high plait and she's even got silver glitter and eyeliner on, which seems a bit ridiculous for training though I have to admit she is stunning. The boy, Dazzle, is big and stocky, with bulging muscles and chestnut brown hair that's cropped close and short. He seems to have a permanent smile on his face, and his teeth are so white that I think they might glow in the dark.

They're both volunteers, both eighteen and both from wealthy families. Your absolute typical district one tributes.

Tanza seems to like them well, especially the girl. She doesn't object to his sideways glances and wandering hands, and the faith I have in my gender is lost for a moment.

Then Dreah flicks a pea at him and a smile returns to my face.

I fight with Sammy a lot while Dreah beats down Candy again and again. I'm pleased to find that I manage to come out on top more often than him, and wonder if I haven't lost my edge after all.

* * *

Over the next few days a couple of other tributes join us tentatively, the boy from three, Renley, a skinny redhead who's excellent with a bow and smarter than the rest of us combined, and the girl from eight, Harper, a cute fifteen year old who Sammy takes a liking to. They spend hours a day sparring and chatting.

We switch stations a lot more, and I'm glad that I'm still great at making fires and climbing. I can't shoot arrows or throw knives to save my life though, which is bad because there's a large chance that I might have to.

Tanza is an excellent climber, he scales the rope climbing net with astounding speed, which surprises me, considering his size, he doesn't seem like he'd be agile.

Candy may not be a good fighter, but she's not bad with a bow and she's surprisingly strong.

Dreah is just as good with knives as her brother, and she does well at the edible plants section, though she's not happy that the pair from district nine are better.

Dazzle is strong. I try sparring with him and it's almost impossible, because as soon as I get too close he practically jumps on me and pins me to the floor, my sword useless against his brute force.

When I finally manage to get his own sword out of his hand and my sword up under his chin, he glares at me for a few tense seconds before the smile appears on his face again and he backs off, laughing.

I really don't like him.

We all agree to become allies, as usual. A pointless truce, since we'll have to finish each other off anyway. But it cleans out the rest of the tributes quicker. I can't see how I could end up killing any of them, though I have never really thought about actually taking someone's life. I'd been preparing for years, but I hadn't been up to the point that I'd fully understood what all my training meant before I was forced to quit.

I've watched hundreds of tributes killed, and I've watched dozens of tributes kill. The act doesn't look so difficult when watched on a screen at home, a quick movement and the person's just gone. Everything they could ever be is wiped away but it's okay because your own life has just got that much better.

There's no way that I won't have to kill anybody, and I can't help but hope that my friends will kill all of the other tributes before I have to get near them.

Before I know it, I'm sitting in the waiting room while Dreah talks at me about her strengths and what she's going to do. Dazzle struts through the door when he's called, and it's barely five minutes before it's my turn.

The judges are sitting up on a high pedestal, leaning back in their chairs. They look surprised when they see me, and I know it's because I'm probably one of the most meager looking district two tributes of all time.

I go up to the swords, noticing that there's a tall man dressed in black standing on the sparring floor.

I go up and join him, not bothering to bow or say hello before lunging at him, knowing that the judges aren't looking for someone polite, they're looking for someone who will kill people in as horrible a way as possible.

He blocks a few of my blows but caves soon enough, the tip of my sword pressing lightly against his stomach.

The judges don't applaud, but I glance up and see them grinning fervently.

I leave.

I had planned to light a fire or something but my nerves get the best of me and I walk out before I can screw up the obviously good image I've put on by beating the sparring partner so quickly.

* * *

I thank my stars when I get a nine. It's an amazing score considering I only showed one skill.

Tanza gets a ten.

_He probably climbed up to the rafters and sparred up there_, I think, watching as he grins.

All of the other careers get tens too, all but Candy who gets a seven. It's an embarrassingly low score for a career and I'm surprised she didn't get at least an eight even considering her lack of skill.

After the TV gets flicked off, Gretchen puts a hand on my shoulder.

'Okay now Genna, it's time for your coaching.'

Both Gretchen and Mika have been coaching Tanza and I separately during training, but I hadn't really been paying attention because Gretchen hadn't mentioned Jessie's information once.

'Genna,' She says when we're in a private room. 'Well done on your score.'

I don't bother to reply.

'Okay, we need to get you ready for your interview…'

'Are you serious?' I splutter, looking up at her where she paces. 'That's all you want to talk to me about? What about this preferential treatment you keep telling me about? I thought you would help me with Jessie!'

'Genna!' She shouts at me to get me to quiet down and I shut up immediately. 'Listen, I'm going to give you all of that, you just have to wait until the interview.'

I glare at her for a few moments before nodding and sitting down hard in a plush green armchair.

She pulls me back up again and pulls a pair of heels off a small stand in the corner.

'I know how to walk in heels,' I say, looking at the six-inch monstrosities doubtfully.

'Well, I need your posture in _these _to be perfect; we don't know what they're going to put you in.'

It doesn't take long before I can walk easily in the heels, and then we work on my manner, and she fires off popular questions at me to get some perfect responses. I can't help but think that she seems to be putting a lot into this, and I plan to be great in the interview, since she seems to be riding on that hope.

She sends me off at ten, and I'm exhausted by the time I get out of my clothes and into my bed.

* * *

The next morning I'm woken at six to prep for my interview in twelve hours.

The process is the same as last time, until we get to the details in my makeup. The soft eye shadow is a deep green, and the liner is an even darker shade of the colour. My lips are a gorgeous red and my nails are surprisingly clear, but they practically shine they're so covered in polish.

Amaretto walks in at around four in the afternoon with another clothing bag.

I have to say that I like this outfit a lot better.

It's similar to my reaping dress, but jazzed up. It's darker for one thing, and longer, still gorgeously flowing around my legs. The neckline plunges down to show cleavage I wasn't aware that I had. It makes me look far older than I am, and the emerald green heels that they slide my feet into don't hurt. They sparkle in the lighting of the prep room and I can't imagine what they'll look like in the studio.

My hair has a beautiful green comb keeping it up in a complex pile at the back, and it's covered in tiny sparkling diamonds that I'm sure would be much more suitable on a tribute from district one.

'Wow, it's…'

'Green is definitely your colour,' states Amaretto, tugging at the ribbon around my waist ever so gently.

I stand and start to make my way out, actually glad that Gretchen had forced me into the heels earlier since these are far larger than what I'm accustomed to at home.

She gives me a look as though daring me to ever tell her that her coaching was unnecessary, and I just grin back sheepishly.

* * *

The studio is amazing.  
There are thousands of people seated around the small stage, screens all over the place, magnifying each tribute's face as we walk on. Dozens of lights illuminate the two seats in the middle of it all, set around a tiny table holding a glass of water and a small plotted pant. Caesar Flickerman, the gorgeous new interviewer who's only a few years older than most of the tributes, his bright red hair and suit like a beacon, occupies one of the seats, and his smile is visible from across the stage.

I sit down between Dazzle and Tanza in the seats, both of whom look great in clean cut tuxes, Dazzle's a bright red with shining stars embroidered over it, and Tanza's a deep blue which contrasts perfectly with his white shirt.

Candy walks up first, her revealing pink dress that flares up in much the same way as Jessie's at the reaping drawing a lot of cheers from the males in the crowd. She laughs and giggles and flirts through the interview like she's done it a million times before, and she even kisses Flickerman on the cheek before flouncing off.

Dazzle's interview starts with Caesar accusing him of stealing his tux, and their easy laughs flow nicely into the rest of the conversation. By the end he's standing up and showing off his muscles to the crowd, thanks to the fact that he easily rips off his sleeves. He has smart stylists.

They shake hands before he leaves and Caesar calls me up.

I walk over easily in my heels and smile when Caesar gasps in clearly put on but nonetheless comforting amazement at my outfit.

He kisses my hand as I sit down and I laugh, the crowd seems to love the sound of my laugh so I plan to be doing a lot of that.

'So how's it been for you here, Genna? I know that you've been to the Capitol before…'

'Oh but that was nothing like it is now!' I gush, glad that he'd chosen this topic because every compliment that I could give the Capitol is at least partially truthful. 'I mean, it was absolutely magical when I came her last two years ago with my family, but this time is even better. So much has changed, everything is so much more beautiful and to be a tribute… I'm seeing things here that none of my friends back at home have ever laid eyes on!' I regret mentioning friends that I don't actually have, and I hope that he won't question me about those.

'And what are you enjoying most?'

'The clothes,' I admit, because it's the truth. Though a lot of the Capitol's fashion is fairly over the top, I still love it. All of the colours that you just can't get anywhere else.

'Well, you are wearing some absolutely _stunning _pieces tonight, I commend your stylist!' I cast an appreciatory glance in the general direction of Amaretto, though I'm not quite sure where he is in the crowd. 'Now, straight to business, your reaping was quite interesting.'

It really wouldn't have seemed so from the outside, I think as he just grins at me. And then I realize that he's digging and he must suspect that something wasn't as it seemed.

'Yes, I refused volunteers!' I say quickly, hoping people hadn't noticed my pause. 'It was the last thing I expected, being reaped. I mean in a district like mine it's a very tiny chance. I could see that many other girls wanted to volunteer, but I couldn't give up a chance at the Games.'

'Well you seem very excited! Is there anyone at home who you're hoping to go back to?'

'My little brother; Han. Hey there, little buddy!' I wave at a camera and the crowd goes _"Aw!"_ 'I love him to pieces and I just know that he'll be so proud of me when I come home.'

'Why, aren't you confident?' Caesar laughs and takes my hand. 'I'm sure you'll make him as proud as you say,' the crowd seems to forget that he hopes that every single tribute wins the Games. 'So, what can we be expecting from you in the arena?'

'Well, I'm not bad with a sword,' I admit. 'And though I may not be as aggressive as Dazzle…' I smile up at the crowd when I get a few laughs. 'I'm definitely going to try my hardest to win, and probably make this year as interesting as possible in the process!' I think that I might have gone too far but the crowd loves me and I laugh and smile up at them, waving before Caesar thanks me for coming, as if I have a choice, and bids me farewell.

He kisses me on the hand again before I get to my feet and give another wave for the crowd before leaving.

Gretchen and Mika are waiting for me, Gretchen seems very pleased, but Mika just looks confused.

'You have a brother?' He asks incredulously.

I just laugh, still slightly giddy from the interview and turn to watch as Tanza breezes through his own. He and Caesar talk a lot about the fact that he's being mentored by his twin, who Flickerman already knows of course.

He walks in after his interview finishes to hug his brother and ignore Gretchen, who ignores him in kind.

We end up standing and watching the rest of the tributes get through their interviews. Dreah looks stunning in white, and she jokes just as easily as Flickerman. The fact that she and Sammy and siblings don't come up in either of their interviews, which is surprising.

The girl from five is walking off the stage when I feel Tanza's hand sneaking around my waist.

I look around to see that we're practically alone, but I shake him off nonetheless.

'That dress looks great on you,' he says, eyeing my newfound chest pointedly.

I take a couple of steps back from him. I'm grateful that I'm still wearing the heels, which make me almost his height.

'Stop,' I say, glaring at him. 'Don't touch me.'

'Why not?' He looks frustrated, and I really wish that this wasn't a private conversation. 'You'll be dead soon, I might even be dead! So why the hell not?'

'Why are you so sure that I'll be dead?' I ask; surprised that this can still hurt me despite what else he's just said.

'Because you may be able to beat me, Dazzle and Dreah occasionally in controlled spars in a training room, but we both know that you don't stand a chance in the arena!'

My mouth pops open and I just can't come up with a response; my brain seems to have shut down.

Then I realize that he's right.

Not about the now or never thing, god no, I have my dignity, but that there's a very likely possibility that I'll be dead within the next couple of weeks.

Because I know that what he says is true, they're so much better than me. Even Sammy with his knives, they all stand a better chance than I do in the arena.

'Genna?' He asks, still frustrated.

'I have to go,' is all I can manage to say.

'Genna, don't…'

But I'm already gone.

* * *

I cry for the first time that night.

I think of Han.

He's counting on me to come home; he needs me to do this. If I don't come back he'll be sent to become a Peacekeeper, and if he fails that…

I don't want to think about Han joining the army, I don't want to think about him flying or sailing away to distant lands where who knows what awaits him.

But I do.

And I cry myself to sleep, after tearing off my dress. I know that I've just ruined an item of clothing worth thousands of dollars but I can't bring myself to care.

* * *

The next morning I sit stonily on a couch while watching reruns of the interviews. I almost burst back into tears whenever any of the tributes from the outer districts come on.

They've got an even smaller chance of winning than I do.

Harper looks lovely, with her wavy pale brown hair that falls just to her shoulders. Her dress is surprisingly modest, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and small grey boots that are hardly even heels, and she simply oozes the gentle sweetness that her district is known for.

I feel a wave of nausea coming on when I see the girl from district ten, Becky, walk on. Her hair is curly and twists up at the sides in a way that was obviously made to look like the horns of an animal, but that's not what disgusts me, I actually think that that looks nice.

Her dress bulges out above and below her waist, obviously attempting to give her thirteen-year-old body more of a figure. I hear a few gasps from the crowd and when the camera swings over to her face I can see that she looks completely embarrassed, and also that they had practically painted a cleavage on her chest.

She shuffles nervously in her small black boots as Caesar splutters for a second before composing himself.

I do feel a couple of tears running down my cheeks when she starts to talk, her voice trembling.

After the last tribute walks off stage Caesar introduces the Game maker.

I sit up straighter.

'So, Lucius!' Caesar shakes his hand warmly before they both sit down. 'Youngest Game maker in the history of the Games! You and I have got something in common,' the crowd laughs dutifully. 'But really, how does that feel?'

Lucius laughs and answers easily. He looks very easygoing here, and it puts me on edge.

'Well it's an honour! And I'll be glad to make these Games as exciting as possible!'

'Well, that's a tough job right after a big anniversary like the 50th.'

'Well, Caesar, I believe that every Games should be just as nail bitingly exciting as the next! No matter if it's the first, the fiftieth or the fifty-first!'

The crowd cheers at that and I'm instantly terrified. Jessie had said this is all just for show; they want to make the Games even more exciting because of the lull after the anniversary.

'So can you give us any hints as to what the tributes will be facing?'

'Well, I can't give you any details, of course. But the terrain this year is going to be very exciting!'

Someone in the crowd shouts 'No more deserts!' And everyone laughs.

'I assure you, no deserts. And there'll be something very interesting about the cornucopia this year.'

My heart jolts. The cornucopia is what careers need, all of the weapons and food and shelter are stored there, and the initial bloodbath is an easy way to weed out a lot of the weaker tributes. The careers always end up camping out there, with all of the supplies, going out to find the survivors.

If there's something unusual about the cornucopia that could be impossible.

After a few more minutes of meaningless banter the Game Maker leaves and to my surprise, Gretchen walks on.

'How lovely to see you again Gretchen! I always look forward to our interviews!'

Gretchen smiles tightly and sits. She's wearing a form-fitting red dress that comes down to her knees and five-inch heels; she looks equally severe and stunning.

'So, we always love to here the escort's and mentor's opinions of tributes! What can you tell us about district two this year?'

'Well, we have a very strong pair this year, both excellent fighters, and that Genna… she's a smart one.'

Okay, so this is what she means about preferential treatment.

'Oh really? Do you think she's cut out to win this?'

'Well, I can't tell you the future but I can assure you that I agree with Lucius, this year is going to be very interesting, and I'm going to be keeping my eye on Genna to see what's going on.'

The crowd cheers and I feel an overwhelming amount of pressure. They'll be expecting me to do something interesting. I guess I kind of gave that impression in my interview too but this has really carved it in stone.

Then Gretchen's off the stage and Tanza is in the room. He says nothing, but sits on the couch next to me to watch the rest of the interviews. A few other escorts and mentors come up and then the show is ending, Flickerman takes a low bow and the introduction music plays again, ending the show.

Tanza flicks off the TV and the silence starts to eat at the room, I'm too scared to get up and leave.

'I'm sorry,' Tanza mutters.

Well I wasn't expecting that.

'What?'

'I'm sorry for last night, that was stupid.'

I look over at him. He looks even more exhausted than I do, dark circles under his eyes. He's dressed in a T-shirt and plain black trousers that look almost too casual for a tribute.

'Yeah, it was,' I don't feel like lying for his benefit. 'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'You just have to know that I'm sorry,' he says. 'I wasn't thinking right, I didn't mean what I said about you going to die.'

'You did,' I say, still not lying. 'You did mean it, and it's true. I know that, I'm not an idiot.'

'Well look at it this way,' he smiles weakly at me. 'If it comes down to it, I don't think I stand a chance against Dazzle either.'

I pull my knees up to my chest and smile back at him.

'This whole thing is stupid, isn't it?' I say, looking over to see him smiling faintly too, and it's the first real smile I've ever seen on him. 'I mean, we train for this for years, thinking we're going to win because we have families who believe in us, and we're special and we're stronger than everyone else.'

'But it doesn't help to think like that, not when there's twenty-three others all thinking the same thing,' he says quietly, voicing my train of thought.

'All we've really got are those stupid odds,' I laugh, and he joins me, looking directly into my eyes he says:

'And may the odds be ever in our favour.'

* * *

The next morning I wake and look out of my window to the monument, there's only six hours left on the clock.

I walk numbly down to the living room, not bothering to change because I know that my prep-team will be waiting for me. Tanza is already there, talking to Mika, who looks irrationally cheerful. The statue is standing by the door of my prep-room, and she beckons me over, as I walk through the door I look back towards Tanza. He meets my eyes over his brother's shoulder and I want to run over and hug him he looks so hurt.

'Oh don't worry about her, she's going to be a piece of cake…' I want to punch the grin off Mika's face; he must know that I can still hear him.

Then the door snaps shut behind me and the statue lays me down on the metal slab.

The wash takes far less time than the last two, which makes sense since there isn't much point in washing me so thoroughly when I'm probably about to get very dirty. They put a lot of creams on my face, and I think they're probably to wash off all of the excess makeup from the past because I feel fresh and bare after they've been washed off. They put on a couple of extra light creams after that, which ease off the imperfections in my skin. Then a couple of tweaks to my eyes and lips, which I have a feeling are permanent without some special liquid to erase them, just to make me presentable to the cameras.

Then Amaretto brings in the outfit.

It's a pale grey, so pale it's almost white. An undershirt and tunic, then a thick jumper and a hot, insulating jacket with a fur lined hood. Several pockets on the inside of it will be excellent to carry small supplies. I wriggle into the skin-tight leggings, which are wonderfully warm, and then thick, waterproof pants made from the same rough material as the jacket along with thick-soled boots. A cap fits snugly over my hair, which is tied back loosely at my nape. A woolen scarf and gloves, made from yet another waterproof material push me from toasty to uncomfortably hot.

'Okay,' says Gretchen as she walks me to my waiting room. 'Well, it's obviously going to be cold. Snowy too, judging from all of the white.'

'You think?' I snap, fidgeting with the hem of my jacket.

'Listen, just go to the cornucopia, you've allied with the other careers, right?'

'Yes,' I say quietly. 'And the boy from three and the girl from eight.'

'Really?' She stops for a second. 'Eight?'

'Yeah, I think Sammy likes her.'

Gretchen looks troubled, and I know why, but I ignore her. I don't see why Sammy shouldn't be happy.

The waiting room is grey and bare, and I walk over to the transporter pad at once. Gretchen follows me.

_Thirty seconds!_

Gretchen reaches out and takes my upper-arms in her hands, which I figure is the closest I'll ever get to a hug.

'Just get to the cornucopia, stick with your allies, but _never _let your guard down, okay? They'll turn on you as soon as it's convenient for them.'

I nod numbly, and she lets go of my arms just before the glass tube rises up around me.

I stand tall, looking straight ahead, then a tingling sensation rises up my body and I'm lifted, Gretchen and the outside world disappearing from view.

Then there's nothing but the arena.

All of the other tributes rise with me, and we form a semi-circle facing a steep cliff-face.

Set in the cliff is the huge, gaping entrance to a cave, which can only be the cornucopia. There are packs and weapons and other supplies littered around the opening but I know that the really good stuff is right inside.

I realize that the cliff is one side of a small mountain, and spin around to see woods spreading off into the distance.

Everything is covered in snow.

My breath fogs out in front of my face and I pull my hood over my head, I see other tributes doing the same.

There's ten seconds left and I look around to find whom I need to find.

Dreah is practically as far away from me as possible, and we lock eyes for a millisecond before I continue my search. Tanza is a few people to my right and Candy is next to him. Dazzle and Sammy are near the centre, directly opposite the cornucopia. Sammy's eyes are trained on Harper from district eight, who's wearing her scarf wrapped around her neck and face in an odd way. Renley from district three is staring at the cornucopia with a look of horror on his face.

_Zero._

I run.

My boots grip the snow perfectly and propel me forwards. I see several tributes completely disregard the cornucopia and rush into the woods. The girl from district five is the fastest and she gets to the cave first, flitting inside and disappearing into the darkness. Renley reaches it second but he doesn't follow inside, he turns and stops Tanza, who's about to run in.

Then I hear it.

A scream rents the air, emanating from the cave. Followed by snarls and growls and the gut-wrenching sound of tearing flesh.

We all freeze.

Well, something's interesting about the cornucopia.

Then Dazzle lunges down and grabs a huge sword, in seconds, one of the nearest tributes lie dead, her bright red blood staining the snow.

Then I see the girl from twelve, a weedy fifteen year old with dirty-blonde hair and big blue eyes reaching for a sword.

I act on instinct, leaping over and snatching the sword off the ground, swinging it wildly. It slices open her stomach, blood spreading over her jacket as she falls to her knees, mouth open in surprise.

I feel like I can barely hold the sword, it almost slips from my fingers as I back into someone, who turns out to be Tanza. He grabs my arms and pulls me out of the way of a knife thrown by Dreah; it flips through the air until it meets its mark, the head of a tribute from six.

I see two tributes run into the trees with small packs and meager weapons. W_e'll have to find them later_, I think. _Track them down like animals._

Tanza's gone; I look around and see him wrestling with the boy from eight. I rush to help him, but he reaches for a knife and literally stabs the tall boy in the back.

Tanza wriggles out from beneath him and I turn to survey the rest of the bloodbath.

The fighting has stopped.

It's over, just like that. I count eight tributes dead on the ground. Dazzle probably having killed most of them.

The eight of us are still alive, me, Tanza, Dreah, Sammy, Dazzle, Candy, Harper and Renley.

We walk together and form a group near the mouth of the cave.

'Okay, what the hell is in there?' Candy gestures wildly with her bloodstained sword; most of her clothes are bloody as well. The only one of us who's totally clean is Harper, who doesn't even have a weapon. 'And how did you know?' She points the sword at Renley, who backs away nervously.

'I heard the animal, I…' He rubs his hands over his arms. 'I have very good hearing.'

She glares at him.

'Well, what are we supposed to do? We need those supplies!' Snaps Dazzle.

'We can't go in there,' I say, and the fear is clear in my voice. 'It's suicide.'

They all nod in agreement.

'Then what?' Mutters Harper.

'We could lure it out?' Suggests Sammy.

'With what?' Asks Candy. 'We don't even know what it is!'

Renley starts rummaging through a pack and pulls out some strips of dried meat. When he tosses it into the cave, it lands just on the edge of the darkness.

A deep growl sounds from deep within and something lunges forwards. We all scream when we see the beast.

It's a bear, but it's huge. If it stood on its hind legs it would have to be nine feet tall, with matted white fur, bloodstained over it's jaw and paws. It's small, beady black eyes flick up to meet ours.

Then it snarls and rushes forwards.

Everyone screams and I stumble backwards, swiping every which way with my sword. The bear barrels straight into Dazzle, who's knocked onto the ground. He stabs upwards with his sword and a large gash opens on the bear's side. It rolls off him and turns to face the rest of us.

Renley has an arrow aimed at the bear's head, but it's already running towards Sammy.

The arrow pierces the bear's skull but it's too close to Sammy, and it stumbles forwards erratically, knocking him over and dragging two sharp claws over his chest.

Sammy's scream is ear splitting, and it's met with the screams of Harper, who's rushing to him. Dreah rushes with her, and they push the dead bear off of Sammy. Candy is already checking Dazzle for injuries, but he protests that he's fine and he just got the wind knocked out of him.

Sammy is the clear problem.

I don't want to get too close to him, I have no idea what to do in a situation like this and I know that I would just get in the way. Instead Tanza and I run into the cave.

I can barely see anything it's so dark, I blink a few times to get my eyes to adjust to the lack of light and I see a torch on the floor a couple of feet away. I grab it and flick it on, shining it over the contents of the cave.

The girl from five is next to the supplies, so mangled I couldn't recognize her if I didn't know who she was. Blood coats the ground around her and the sword and pack she'd managed to grab.

I shine the torch away from her and over the supplies, seeing a large chest full of various weapons. There are numerous bags of tools and boxes of food as well, but I'm searching for something that might help Sammy.

Tanza tosses me a small bottle of antiseptic and I run back outside.

I give the bottle to Harper, who's already opened his jacket and exposed his skin to the cold air of the arena.

I turn to go back into the cave to search some more, and see Tanza dragging the girl from district five outside.

As soon as he lets her go the canons start to sound.

I count ten, and I assume that someone else has been killed out in the woods, because there are only nine bodies in the clearing.

My suspicions are confirmed when a huge hovercraft floats over us and picks up the bodies, and a smaller one descends somewhere over the forest.

My attention turns back to the crisis at hand when Dazzle lifts Sammy and starts to carry him into the cave. Everyone follows, and I make to as well until Tanza grabs me and Candy by the arms and pulls us off to the side.

'We have to go and track down the other tributes,' he hisses.

'What?'

'There are clear tracks in the snow, we should follow them before the tributes smarten up and wipe them or before it snows and we lose them.'

I have to admit that he's right, and I'm baffled when Candy nods and runs into the cave. She returns with Dazzle and Renley.

We split into two groups; Dazzle and Candy following a large set of tracks that probably belong to the boy from seven who I'd seen running in that direction, and Tanza, Renley and I following a pair which I know belong to the girl and boy from ten, but their tracks disappear about three hundred feet into the woods. We decide to make the best of it though and hack a few limbs off of trees with the axe that Renley had brought. We beat off the snow before walking back to the cornucopia and debate on how to light them.

We're right outside the cave when two canons go off, and Dreah rushes out to meet us. We wait for what seems like an eternity, and then a hovercraft lights down over the woods and Dazzle runs out into the clearing.

'Where's Candy?' Tanza asks stonily.

'Dead,' Dazzle leans against the side of the cave. His sword is stained with blood. 'The brute from seven ambushed us, I couldn't save her, and he had an axe…'

I have a very distinct feeling that he's lying, but I don't want to push it. I can't blame him for taking a chance.

But I also can't look him in the eyes.

Then the anthem starts to sound and we look up to the sky, counting the dead.

Candy is shown first, then the girls from three and five. The only tributes alive from the outer districts are the girl from six, Harper, both tributes from ten and the boy from 11. The last to be shown are the pair from twelve, and I feel an odd jolt in my stomach when I see the girl, and I couldn't help my brain from flashing back to how the fight drained from her eyes as her blood soaked her jacket and she slumped down into the snow.

We retreat into the cave and me and Renley start to light a fire. Luckily the cave is big enough for the smoke to thin out, and the other tributes probably already know that we're here anyway, so there's no point in freezing to death.

'Someone has to keep watch outside,' says Tanza, who's searching the supplies for something good to eat. 'It's getting colder, a tribute might risk making a fire and being captured in favour of freezing to death.'

Renley nods and leaves, grabbing a couple of pieces of dried pork on the way out.

Tanza finds a raw pig's leg wrapped in plastic and passes it to me.

'Why do I have to cook?' I say sharply.

'Hey, you don't have to,' he says, raising his hands. 'But I'm no good and everyone else is busy.'

I look around and see that it's true. Dazzle is sorting the weapons and Dreah and Harper are still fussing over Sammy, who doesn't look like he's in shape to do anything right now.

I glare at him and tear open the plastic, sniffing at the meat. It seems very fresh, and I debate with myself for a while on how to best cook it. I rummage through the rest of the supplies until I find an actual frying pan.

I sigh in relief, because the only other way I know how to cook something like this is on a spit and I have no idea how to make one.

I tell Tanza to start carving the meat and find a small jar full of basic cooking oil to heat up the pan.

'How can you not cook?' I ask quietly.

'What?'

'You've been in training for the games for years, how did they never teach you to cook?'

'Oh they taught me how to cook,' He grins as he hacks off a large chunk of meat. 'I've just never been any good at it; I'm lucky that they don't ask you to make a soufflé when they're choosing volunteers.'

As soon as the oil is sizzling I put a strip onto the pan, using a fork that Dazzle had found. The meat finishes quickly, and I lay out the cooked pieces on the plastic. Tanza gives three of them to Dreah, who cuts one of them up into tiny pieces for Sammy, devours one and gives Harper the other. Tanza cuts up his own piece and eats it neatly with his fingers, but Dazzle just rips his apart with his teeth.

After the meat is all gone we pull out sleeping bags and settle in. As the fire burns down the cold starts to bite at our faces and I pull up my scarf. I'm just about to drift off to sleep when I see a small parachute drifting slowly into the cave.

I get up and shuffle over, opening up the tiny container I see exactly what I expected; medical supplies. I shake Harper awake gently and she smiles sleepily at me before digging around for a torch and telling me I don't have to stay. I walk back to my sleeping bag gratefully, but I can't sleep when I start to hear Sammy whimpering, and Harper's loud attempts to calm him down.

* * *

Nothing happens over the next three days. We try tracking down the other tributes a few times but we're not in too much of a rush to finish this and it's getting steadily colder, icy winds biting at our faces as soon as we leave the cave.

Our main problem is Sammy, who isn't getting better despite the medical supplies. Harper knows a fair amount about treating injuries, since there are a lot of accidents in her district, but the deep wounds scoring his chest won't seem to clear off.

She refuses to leave his side, and I hear them talking whenever he's well enough to do so, laughing even, in their own little corner of the cave, backs resting against the dirt walls, accepting food whenever we make it.

Renley and Tanza go hunting occasionally, coming back with small squirrels and rabbits with snow-white fur. I cook, skinning the animals and frying them over the fire, which we try to keep burning as much as possible.

Dreah is getting edgy; she sits on the opposite side of the cave sharpening knives and muttering to herself.

Dazzle asks her if she wants to help hunt or track tributes but she just glares at him. I want to ask her what's going on, though I have a feeling it has to do with Sammy and I've decided to avoid the whole situation, preferring to cook and sort the supplies and spar and talk with Tanza.

On the third night we hear the anthem again right after two canon blasts, and we rush outside to see the faces of the boy from five and the girl from six flicker in the sky.

Two less people wander the arena as I drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next thing I know I'm being shaken awake by Tanza, who looks exhausted.

'We have to go out,' he says wearily.

'What?'

'Someone lit a fire, come on, we're going.'

I look around and see that our own fire has died. In the dark I can barely make out the sleeping forms of the others. I see Renley, who's lying slightly separate from everyone else.

'Did you take up the watch?' I ask as I unravel myself from the sleeping bag and grab a sword and a couple of smaller knives just in case.

'Yeah,' he says, pulling me to my feet. 'Come on.'

The plume of smoke is clearly visible, though it's dark, drifting up above the trees.

We run at an even pace at first, careful to make sure that whoever's made the fire doesn't have time to move on, but as we get closer we slow down and try to stay quiet, our large boots still crunching in the snow.

He hasn't heard us yet, and we come at him from two different angles. He's sitting nervously by the fire, and it's clear to me now that he's the boy from ten. I know that he had run out with the girl from his district, but she was nowhere to be seen and I wonder if she's hiding in the trees ready to pounce on us or if they've separated.

Tanza pounces first, and there's no point in me even being there because he slits the boy's throat in one quick leap.

The tribute collapses onto the fire.

'Oh shit,' says Tanza pointedly.

'It's not like it's going to spread,' I mutter, and I'm surprised at how detached I sound while watching the flames eat away at his clothes and the delicate skin on his face.

Tanza peers at me with an odd look on his face for a second before tossing snow over the body and pulling me away through the trees just as the canon goes off.

Then a second canon sounds.

And a third.

We run.

When we get to the cave Dreah, Dazzle and Renley are all shouting at each other and Harper and Sammy are both lying, unmoving, on the ground.

It doesn't take long for me to realize that Dreah has killed them both.

She looks enraged, her hair a mess around her sharp face. She's shouting about how they were weighing us down and it was a necessary sacrifice.

I feel sick to my stomach; I had trusted her, sparred with her, bonded with this girl who had just slit her brother's throat.

Dazzle, whom I wouldn't have picked to have any issues with morals, is glaring at her like she's killed his brother in his sleep. Renley looks like he can barely hold the bow he's aiming at her.

'How could you?' He hisses. 'He was your _brother!'_

She swipes out an arm and a knife flies across the space between them, narrowly missing his head.

I feel someone grip my wrist and a sharp gasp escapes my lips before I realize its Tanza.

'We have to get out of here,' he whispers, his breath misting up next to my face, and I turn to look at him for a second. He's watching the situation intently, his green eyes flicking between the three other tributes. I realize that he means he's not done with me yet, but he certainly seems done with everyone else.

'We need some of those supplies,' I reply, deciding that siding with him is probably my best option for now.

He's silent for a moment, and I can tell that he's judging the situation.

Then he begins to slowly walk around the edge of the cave and I immediately feel a lack of warmth by my side, which I hadn't noticed was there until it disappeared.

Renley notices and makes to stop him but the sudden movement seems to be too much for Dreah, who throws another knife, which finds its mark in his leg.

He screams and Dazzle rushes at Dreah. My eyes are still on Tanza, who uses the distraction to grab two of the larger packs that I realize he had set aside earlier, and an extra sword and a couple of knives.

He passes one of the packs to me as soon as he's near enough and nobody notices as we run out and into the woods, our boots kicking up the snow behind us as a third canon echoes around the arena.

* * *

We run for what seems like hours, and my breath is coming out of my mouth in short rasps, each inhalation and exhalation burning my throat. The bag feels like a dead weight on my back, and I'm starting to fall behind Tanza when the trees begin to thin out.

He stops and I walk a few steps until I'm next to him and we sink to the ground. If anyone were to attack us now we wouldn't stand a chance. The sun still isn't up, but I have no idea what time it is. I can barely even feel the cold I'm so tired, and I sink back onto the snow as my eyes close.

* * *

I start to wake slowly the next morning but as soon as I'm even vaguely aware of my surroundings I sit up fast.

My nose feels like it's frozen solid. I rub my face between my gloves to heat it up and realize that I'm covered in a light layer of the snow that's still falling. I look to my left and see Tanza lying, still sleeping beside me.

His face is practically blue, his eyes shut so tight he couldn't possibly be peacefully dozing.

'Tanza, get up,' I hiss, shaking his shoulder roughly. 'Get up before you freeze to death!'

He jerks awake and grabs my hand with his, glaring at me.

'We are in serious shit.'

I blink rapidly, looking down at his wide eyes and set jaw.

'Tell me about it,' I say weakly.

'This is all going too fast,' He says, sitting up next to me and dusting the snow off his clothes. 'I mean, there's only what… six of us left? We're only four days in!'

'And that's assuming that no one else died while we were sleeping,' I add, reaching over to grab my pack. 'Did you set these aside?'

'I had a feeling this might happen,' he said quietly.

'You can't possibly have known that Dreah…'

'While you were busy trying to find one person to bond with I was actually trying to figure out how to beat them in the arena.'

I'm struck by his blunt accusation but I can't help but realize he's right, one smile and a few words of sympathy from Dreah and I trusted her immediately.

'And of course I come on to you twice and you automatically assume I'm a cocky jerk.'

'But you are a cocky jerk,' I grin.

'True,' he admits, smiling at his feet. 'But I'm far more trustworthy than Dreah.'

I laugh and pull an apple out of my pack, it's nearly frozen solid and I have to use a knife to get it into sizeable chunks.

We both eat in silence, glancing around us at the trees and what lies beyond.

'What do you reckon is beyond the forest?' He asks, pointing vaguely in the direction of the smaller, thinner trees. 'I'm pretty sure that it thins out.'

I stand, pulling the pack onto my back again and grabbing my sword.

'Well, maybe the other tributes are there,' I say.

'I'm curious,' he says quickly once we're already walking. 'Have you…'

'Killed anyone?' I ask quietly. 'Yeah, I killed the girl from twelve, back by the cave.'

We fall into silence for a few seconds.

'Three,' he says finally.

'What?'

'I've killed three people now,' he says quietly. Two in the bloodbath and then, you know…'

'Yeah, I know,' I say quietly. 'It's just…'

I fall silent, because we've passed the last tree, and I can't help but stare.

There's a vast expanse of snow, tufts of frozen grass emerging from the pure white coating. The wind swirls over the top layer, carrying it off into the distance and making the whole area look as if it's shifting.

About five hundred feet away a huge frozen lake is set into the ground, and we spot a plume of smoke drifting up into the sky on the far side that we hadn't been able to see in the trees.

'Is that…' I mutter.

'Probably Dreah or Dazzle,' he replies. We fall back into the trees, feeling immediately exposed on the field. 'You'd think that the others would be more careful.'

I look around from behind the tree, trying to catch a glimpse of the owner of the flame, but all I can see was the faint line of grey.

'Should we…'

'Yes,' he says immediately. 'There's two of us, and it's more than likely whoever is over there is on their own.'

I sigh, raising my sword slightly.

'What if it's Dreah?' I whisper. 'Do you really think we can…'

'Come on, we can take her,' he grins. 'I didn't get a bloody _ten _for nothing.'

I smile weakly and pull my hood up over my head, walking slowly out of the trees.

I follow Tanza as he slinks along the snow. The wind snaps over my face, flecks of snow and ice biting into my skin. I pulled my scarf over my mouth and nose, attempting to ease the sting.

'The lake's frozen solid,' I hiss when we get near. 'We could…'

'We're not walking over it,' he snaps. 'Way too risky, just stay low, okay?'

He starts to run as soon as we get close. I can now see that it's Dazzle, his broad back is to the wind, shielding it from the tiny fire he's managed to light. If he moves an inch it'll go out.

We approach him from behind, swords raised as we rush forwards.

Dazzle abandons his fire, which goes out with a fizzle, and jumps up so fast I fall back in surprise, my feet slipping on the constantly shifting snow. I gasp as a flash of pain runs up my spine.

Tanza, thankfully, isn't caught off guard and avoids the first hefty blow. He tries to swipe at his legs but Dazzle jumps out of range.

I get to my feet and lunge at him, staying steady on my feet as his sword clashes with mine. He pushes me off and swings back to block Tanza's own blade, sending him flying to the ground with a strong punch to his chest. Despite the cold there's sweat dripping down the shallow ridges in his tan forehead, and when he spins and jumps on me, I feel some drip onto my exposed skin.

His weight forces me back to the ground, pinning me beneath him.

My sword is gone from my right hand, which is left clutching at powdered snow, I grasp desperately with my left and only then do I realize that at some point I had pulled out one of my knives.

My hand moves on instinct, swinging up and across. The knife slices across his throat, and instantly red blurs my vision. It falls over my face and chest, drenching my jacket and staining the tough white material.

I try screaming to release the tight knot in my chest but a stream of blood trickles into my mouth and I close it instantly, tears stinging at my eyes.

I can't close them though; they're glued to the wide face of the tribute from district one. His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are dilated dramatically. He gasps hoarsely once, twice and then three times before the arms keeping him up give way and he falls forward, his dead weight pressing down on me.

A moment later he's lifted off and thrown to lay, face down, in the snow. I sit up immediately, my lungs taking in the vast amount of oxygen I seem to suddenly need.

'Genna!' I look up hazily into Tanza's pale blue eyes, watching as the colour flashes and shifts. 'Genna!'

I reach up and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder and pushing my face further into the warm fabric of his jacket. I'm fully aware that I'm steadily covering him in blood as well, but he doesn't seem to be complaining.

I feel the strong grip of his arms over my back, though it feels odd being in such close contact to someone, and yet so far away due to the layers upon layers of clothing, I feel instantly calmed, the knot in my chest unraveling slowly.

I'm not sure how long we stay there, but I pull away when I feel his fingers threading through my hair and brushing at the exposed skin of my nape.

He lets go of me immediately, of which I'm thankful, but flashes me a smug smirk. I almost feel comforted by the familiar mood, and then my eyes are inevitably drawn to the blood that's now smeared over his chin and chest.

'I'm sorry,' I mutter. 'I got blood all over you.'

He shrugs.

The canon goes off and we leave quickly, I grab my sword off the ground before we run to give the hovercraft some space to pick up Dazzle.

When I look back and see his body being pulled into the air I feel a cold wave of nausea curl around my stomach and I have to stop for a few seconds to keep myself from throwing up.

'Final five,' Tanza whispers, taking my hand and pulling me along with him. 'We both made it to the final five.'

I don't reply, scared that I'll give in to the impulse to vomit.

'There's only three others left,' he pants.

Then I have to stop in my tracks because a thought occurs to me.

What if we kill them? What if we beat the other three tributes?

Then there will only be Tanza and I.

And one of us will have to die.

I wonder if I can actually kill him. He's far better than me, a more experienced fighter, not to mention stronger and faster. The way he'd just leapt in and sliced that boy's throat open, I start to panic thinking that my two kills have mostly just been luck, a defenseless outer district tribute with no training, who had reached for the wrong weapon, and Dazzle, who had overpowered me completely. If I hadn't had grabbed that knife, the hovercraft would have been picking up two bodies, though I have no idea who would be the other one.

'Genna, what's…'

'I have to kill you,' I breathe, and now I can't tear my eyes from his face. Tiny flakes of snow fall on his smooth skin, and melt instantly at his body heat. His perfectly straight nose and cheeks are lightly flushed, and his eyes are wide and a perfect, pale blue. Like the clear water that we have to import from the capitol, because the water sources around district two are so polluted, the water that Han had begged his friends for after we could no longer afford it.

I look to his lips and notice that they're moving.

'Genna, don't think that, okay… we don't have to think like that, we can get to that when we have to.'

'But I'm going to have to kill you,' I can feel that I'm shaking now. 'Or you'll kill me, and you can't kill me! You can't because I have so much to go back to!'

'Genna…'

I hear a high-pitched scream and don't have a chance to collect myself before something heavy knocks me to the ground. My screams mingle with the crazed shrieks of the boy tribute from eleven, who has leapt bodily from a tree to land on top of us, knocking the air out of my lungs. I feel a sharp pain in my hip and I can't move my right leg.

I feel the tribute's body being pulled off my own and see Tanza hit him hard across the jaw. He's small and weedy, fourteen with dark skin, which contrasts horrifically with his bloodstained jacket.

He looks deranged.

Tanza's sword seems to have disappeared, but luckily the other boy seems to be weaponless too, I try to get up to help him, but I can't move without screaming in pain. My body feels pinned to the ground by an invisible weight, and I feel something welling up inside my digestive system.

My sword is still in my hand, and I wish that Tanza would just take it from me and finish the other guy off, but he's almost incapacitated by the tribute twice as far as I can see, and adrenaline is clearly giving the thin boy an edge.

I can't believe my eyes when Tanza is beaten to the ground, a shuddering pile in the snow as Dale, as I remember him being called, turns and advances on me, probably figuring he'll finish me off before turning back to the real threat.

I try to scream, but the sound comes out as more of a liquid gurgle.

Then, just as he's about to leap on me and attack, a thick rope appears out of nowhere and closes around his neck. Pulling him back sharply to collapse on the ground.

I almost expect to see Tanza with the rope, but I look up to see the girl from district ten, Becky, standing just inside the trees with a fierce look in her eyes, clutching it in her small hand.

I remember feeling sorry for her, the district ten stylists have a reputation for being horrible, but I know that a lot of people were especially outraged when they saw her dress at the interview, her large brown eyes full of panic and shame. But she looks nothing like that now, her lank hair falling just past he shoulders, dirt and blood staining her boots. She flicks the rope and it slips off his neck. I'm surprised to see that he splutters once and then jumps up and attacks her, immediately wary when he sees the small knife in her left hand.

Tanza seems to regain his strength and he crawls over to me, reaching out to touch my side. I cry out as pain shoots through my leg.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers. 'Can you walk?'

'I don't think so,' I rasp, letting him pull me up into a sitting position.

He helps me to stand and I lean on him heavily before putting my foot forward, wincing as a dull ache flares up.

'I think I can walk,' I whisper. 'It's better, yeah I think it was just the shock.'

He lets me go and I stand unsteadily, my sword still clutched tightly in my hand. I try to assess the situation; the tributes from ten and eleven are fighting cautiously near the edge of the trees, the only tribute missing is Dreah.

That's when she bursts out of the forest. Her hood has been torn off by something and her hair is tangled, with what looks like a small bush-worth of twigs and leaves lodged inside it.

At that precise moment, there's a huge rumble and we all look towards the huge mountain behind us.

It looks like its crumbling, huge drifts of snow rolling down in waves. We all look to each other in fear and it doesn't take long before we're all running for our short, desperate lives.

It's a huge avalanche, and I can hear as it gets closer and closer. I ignore the pain in my leg as Tanza grabs my hand and pulls me along. My eyes flash to Dreah, who's own are fixed forward, her mouth parted as she pants heavily. We run across the field, the wind pushing at our feet as we hear the snow crashing through the trees behind us.

We all stop when we reach the lake at the same time, but we look back and see that the avalanche has already reached the open space and shows no sign of slowing down. Some part of my brain considers the fact that there's no way that this is natural, but the part that's thinking that we'll have to run across the frozen lake overshadows this, and I look to Tanza for confirmation.

He nods mutely and we run forwards, feeling our feet slip ever so slightly on the ice. Tanza's grip helps me steady myself but I can feel the pain in my leg growing.

We all stop in the very centre of the lake when a huge cracking sound rings loud and harsh against our ears, huge splits open up in the surface, separating us careers from the other two tributes.

Dreah turns to us from where she stands, near the edge of the slab of ice. She can immediately see that she isn't going anywhere, none of us are. The rest of the lake ice seems to be crumbling away and all that's left is us trying to balance precariously and kill each other with the few weapons we'd carried with us.

We're distracted momentarily by the sight of the snow ceasing its onward roll just at the edge of the lake.

Then I turn my attention back to Dreah, who's brandishing a knife, stepping back to rest her feet on the very edge of the ice. If we move forward it could flip over completely.

She takes a chance and throws it at Tanza, who side steps cautiously, flattening his feet steadily to try and stop the ice from rocking.

'Don't move pretty boy,' she snarls. 'You wouldn't want precious little Genna to take a tumble, would you?'

We both glare at her; she's out of reach, which means she has the advantage since we're both lousy at long-distance combat. Just like she wants.

Then a rope appears out of nowhere and fastens around her neck, pulling her long, flailing limbs into the freezing water.

I look over to Becky, who pulls sharply on the rope once, probably to break Dreah's neck, before letting it slide into the water with her.

Her hands, which I notice are gloveless, are bloodstained and a few feet to her left I see the other tribute dead on the ice, her knife jutting out of his stomach.

I can't believe that she's the only one left. How did this meager looking girl live past so many stronger tributes? How did I live through this?

I see her pull another rope from her belt and when I see the way she twists it between her hands I remember she's from ten, that's livestock.

I feel sick to my stomach when I realize that she's killed the tributes like cattle.

I can feel Tanza shifting beside me tensely, and I know that two of us are going to die, and I'm thinking that it might be us.

She throws the rope, which already has a loop, tied on the end of it.

I move just at the right moment, and instead of tightening around my neck it snaps painfully across my face, and I know that it'll leave a bruise though I can't tell if it's broken my skin.

The girl pulls the rope back quickly and glares across at us. She knows that we can't make the next move, knows that we have no weapons other than the sword in my hand and the knife that Tanza can't throw, so she knows that she has to do it.

She throws the rope again, but this time she doesn't aim at our necks, it's obviously more difficult when we can defend ourselves. It slips over Tanza's outstretched wrist and tightens before he has the time to shake it off.

She pulls him towards her with a surprising amount of strength and I hear myself scream when his weight on the ice causes it to tip precariously. I watch him while I fall back, clinging to the slippery surface as it moves beneath me, he's dragged horribly fast to the edge, slipping down the ice which is sloping downwards alarmingly. I can see that he's managed to pull out his knife and is hacking away at the rope, but even when it severs he's still sliding towards the water.

He forces himself to a position where he can jump, and leaps across the short distance between the two floating islands, which forces the ice to buck backwards dangerously. I scramble towards the middle and lay flat on my stomach, trying to balance it out while still watching the other two intently.

Tanza lands with a roll, still clutching his knife as he pulls himself up to his full height to face Becky, who has retrieved her knife from the dead body behind her and is crouched. I can see the fear in her eyes from all the way over here, because she knows she's lost the advantage and Tanza could easily snap her neck without any trouble.

And he does.

He steps forwards surely and quickly, stepping out of the way of her knife and twisting it out of her hand before taking her head between his arms and twisting.

She falls to the ice, her head lolling to the side and the knife slipping out of her limp hand.

I can only stare in shock.

He turns to stare at me, his blue eyes sparkling as he watches over the gap between us.

'So,' he says slowly. 'Just you and me.'

I can't seem to talk, it feels like there's something large lodged in my throat. I can't seem to do anything but look, my eyes flickering between Tanza and his kill, her body is stained with blood, but none of it is her own. It feels eerie, everyone else having died so bloodily. Except for Dreah, I realize, her body is probably lying beneath our feet, and I wonder how the Capitol is going to recover it.

'Speechless?' He asks.

'N-no,' I stutter, reaching up to pull a few strands of hair away from my eyes. 'I just…'

'I'm sorry, Genna,' he says loudly and clearly, and my words die in my throat. 'But you know this is how it ends.'

I do know. He's been using me throughout the entire games. I think that I've known for a while, but pushing the thought down and believing that I'd found someone I could trust in all of this madness was just so much easier.

Now I have to face it, I have to face the fact that he's going to kill me, because this is how it ends. I may have thought that maybe the mere fact that I'm from district two gave me a chance, but I wasn't made for this. Maybe a year ago I was, maybe a year ago I could have entered the games with my head held high and come out equally proud. But I know that Tanza's going to kill me, because he's the smart, charming, strong, skilled and experienced male tribute from district two.

So of course he's the winner.

He crosses the gap with one agile leap and the ice barely moves. I can see that he can tell that I've given up, the fight has gone from my eyes and I stand there, my sword limp at my side, watching as he runs towards me.

He can tell that he's won.

But I can't just stand there. Seeing his twisted face approaching, the knife held tightly in his hand, I can't help but feel my own hand tightening around my sword.

_Screw the winner,_ I think as I slice upwards, bracing myself on the ice as the blade cuts up through his stomach and up to his chest.

I meet his eyes one last time and he looks _betrayed. _The bastard has the audacity to look betrayed.

After everything he's done to me.

I wish I can say that I'm having one of those out-of-body experiences, but I've never felt more aware of my actions as I bring my sword down into his soft flesh again and again and again.

Blood spills onto the ice, drifting across it as it splatters up to cover my clothes and face. I can feel the pain flaring up in my leg again and it gives out. I fall to my knees and lean over to rest my face on his chest, not caring that his innards are literally spilling out of the numerous wounds that I know I've caused.

I can't help but think of Han, sitting at home and watching. I know that when I'll get back he'll tell me how brave and strong and cool I am.

I feel anything but brave, and my body feels like it's about to stop working at any moment. I feel like I should be crying but I can't make the tears form. I hear the three canons sound and my eardrums feel like they're being torn apart as each one of them echoes through the arena. Everything is far too real. I can feel my damp clothing pressing against my skin and I can feel Tanza's hot blood seeping onto the exposed skin of my face.

The noise of the hovercraft's whirring engines startles me and I look up, though I can barely see anything through the layer of unshed tears and blood that conceals the sky.

I feel a strong claw fasten around my waist, and I barely even protest as I'm lifted slowly into the sky, watching the place where I should have died drift away.

* * *

The world loves me.

I remember watching the other victors for years, huge smiles gracing their faces as they presented themselves to the rest of Panem, heads held high. I remember loving to see them so happy and brave.

So I do the same, standing straight and tall when the victor's band is lowered over my meticulously groomed hair, waving to the cameras and smiling so hard I feel like my face is going to split in two.

I can't look at anyone. I can gaze out over the crowd, watching the movements of the masses as they cheer me on, but I'm too terrified of bursting into uncontrollable tears to single out any faces. So I focus heavily on what I'm doing, my breathing and blinking manual as I block out any thoughts that attempt to ruin my façade.

It's only later, when I'm alone in the comfortable bedroom that's far too big for me to feel safe, that I let the tears flow, sobs shaking my body as I curl up under the cool sheets.

* * *

Nobody knows.

At home, my family can't get enough of me; they practically parade me around in front of the old friends who had abandoned them when we lost everything. I feel like my parents should have enough dignity to not accept the invitations to sophisticated dinners that start getting sent their way again, but they jump right back on the bandwagon, and it's as though nothing has ever happened. They're in the mayor's good books again, and my father gets the permits to rebuild his factory. Han couldn't be happier. Whenever he's not playing with Hertie, he's telling me how proud he is and hugging me until I can't breath. Touching him feels wrong somehow, as if my hands, the ones that had held the weapons that took other people's lives, and took them willingly, shouldn't be allowed near this small, naïve little boy, as though they're only fueling his delusions that I'm some kind of saint. I had done things to people that could never be accepted by anyone with clear notions of right and wrong, and I can barely look at Han whenever I remember that he knows exactly what I've done, probably watched me hacking into Tanza's already lifeless form with a grin on his face, not knowing that what I was doing was so, so wrong.

I try to catch the eyes of the other victors occasionally. I think that they must know what I'm going through, must have felt the same things as I do when they'd first came out of the Games, but they ignore me completely. I'd always thought that the victors had some kind of thing going on between them, some kind of secret meeting place where they tell all of their old stories and reminisce, but I never see a single victor talking to another, and none of them even glance my way.

I stop trying to talk to any of them when I realize why. They don't want to reminisce. They don't want to remember, and even though they can never forget the acts, they don't need to be with people who know what they've been through, as well as what they've done. I sometimes think it would be easier to be able to talk to someone about it, but at the same time I don't want to be reminded of the guilt I already feel every day. My fear always gets the better of me and so I avoid the other inhabitants of the victor's village.

Jessie visits me one day, and she's practically screaming how sorry she is, tears running down her face. It's the last thing I would have expected, but I've learnt not to expect anything from anyone. I have to say that I'm glad she's around, though I don't like to think about why she's so sorry, it's nice to know that someone doesn't just think of me as a hero, but as a person who's been put in a situation that they couldn't escape, and who came out alive. Not victorious, but alive.

After a while she stops saying sorry, but she doesn't abandon me. She's the only person in the world who I can allow myself to enjoy spending time with, and she seems to enjoy spending it with me. I can forget around the Games with her, forget about Tanza and Dreah and the little girl from district ten.

But when I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while trying to drift off to sleep, I can't forget them. I can't forget any of them.

I can't hate any of them either. It would be so much easier if I could just dislike them all, and it should be so easy to loathe Dreah, who had slit her own brother's throat, and despise Tanza, who had gotten me to trust him so easily. But I can't because I know that none of it is their fault, it's not their problem that they knew how to break me, and it's not their fault that this didn't keep them alive.

* * *

I feel an intense sensation of fear settle in my stomach when the next Games come around, the Games in which I have to be a mentor, and though I stand with my family, I feel a hand slipping into my own and look to my right to see Jessie smiling weakly at me. Han is watching the whole proceedings with a tiny pout on his lips, and I feel my stomach churn at the thought that he envies the two tributes, who stand strong and tall up on the stage, shaking hands easily. I know that one of them will most likely come out the winner, because these are the tributes that are supposed to board the train from the second district.

I realize that under different circumstances that could have been me up there, smiling down at everyone with pride filling my chest, and I look up at the girl, a tall blonde with blood red lips and a confident look.

I know that she could be the one who comes back, who has to act like nothing is wrong around her friends and family when in reality she can barely look them in the eyes, who has to live with the fact that she's the reason twenty-three other people no longer live and breath. I know I'll have to teach her how to do this, how to win, and I know that her life might as well rest in my hands. I can't think of what I'll say to her, if you lose, you're dead, if you win, you'll wish you were.

I see so many other volunteers, my old friends, who look up at her in envy, and then I can't take it. I can't keep looking and I turn and run because there's no glory, no favour and I am no victor.

The End.


End file.
